aftermath
by Shriayle
Summary: Headmaster Tom Marvolo Riddle settled back in his chair to take in Harry in his entirety. "Cheeky Slytherin," he mumbled. "Arrogant Ravenclaw," Harry shot back. [AU what-if snippet: Slytherin!Harry, not-Slytherin!Voldemort]


Harry was unbearably tired. Seven years of quiet, underhanded ploys; careful prunings of those he knew wouldn't be noticed; and gentle proddings of loyalties to his side had finally culminated in one fateful set of twenty-four hours that left the seventeen-year-old more exhausted than all of his NEWTs.

And yet, and yet... he was pleased. He knew without looking that he must glow with pride at the mostly perfect execution of his plans. It would typically irritate him to be so puffed-up, so utterly _Gryffindor_ like the parents that had borne him.

Harry decided that today was a good day to be uncharacteristic. Even Slytherins deserved a moment of celebration, especially in the aftermath of reaping what he sowed.

Aurors nodded in acknowledgement as he passed. They knew where he was heading. They must know.

Harry allowed himself a moment of reflection as he walked to the Headmaster's office. It was hard, he allowed. The public had been ruthless when he was announced a Slytherin, outraged that their hero wasn't spawned from the house of bravery and knight-like chivalry. It didn't take them long to realize that knights were of yore and that the current age needed someone able to politick their way to victory. It helped that his house wasn't hated, just unexpected.

The gargoyle recognized him and was already jumping aside before Harry whispered something to it in a careful caress of a hiss. That year had been tough. A serpent terrifying the school, a pureblood student threatened, and his public pride in being a Parselmouth? Perhaps that last item hadn't been the best move, looking back, but he was twelve and the rest of his House had looked upon him in awe when he demonstrated their Founder's prized ability. Why wouldn't he hide it?

One last set of guardians stood by the door to the office itself. Ronald Weasley and Draco Malfoy were not a pair that anyone knowledgeable of their families' histories would have expected. Hermione had once described the fierce rivalry between the Weasleys and Malfoys with the words of the bard that gave her a name: _"Two houses, both alike in dignity..." _

It was hard still to remember his friend, the Muggleborn who stood with her head held high, even when the public tore her image to pieces for her appearance, her blood, her House, her intelligence. His brilliant, tenacious spy didn't survive to see her name celebrated alongside his.

Harry didn't allow himself to remember Hermione for too long. Her loss was too fresh and invoked too visceral a reaction from their entire group. He could not show his pain to the man he was going to see.

Draco and Ron didn't share his reluctance, it seemed. "Filthy murderer is in there," the latter grunted. "Give him hell, Harry." Draco's lip curled on reflex at the Gryffindor's uncouth words but did not correct him.

Harry merely nodded before pushing the doors open.

The office was as he remembered: priceless artifacts of the Founders surrounded him in unbreakable cases, portraits carefully placed in between the relics in places of pride. Shelves with old books covered the walls as well as filling the air with the faint smell of parchment. Harry carefully nudged a floating candle out of his way, lest the smell of his burning hair joined in.

The throne-like chair that he studiously ignored stood behind a desk carved with the Hogwarts coat of arms. Harry had admired it many times, especially the revised motto. _Nil Satis Nisi Optimum: _Thus one journeys to the stars.Borrowed from Virgil, if Hermione was correct, and Harry did not doubt that she was. He had heard her shining approval of the new motto over the old one in many a rant about the brilliance of their Headmaster; ticking a sleeping dragon, indeed.

Harry finally let himself make eye contact with the man bound to the chair, taking in the sharp aristocratic features that were beginning to form beneath the face's sallow and serpentine beginnings. Harry didn't particularly like that he had been made part of his Headmaster's pursuit of immortality. It made him feel dirty.

"Do I fascinate you, Harry?" the man asked. His voice was already losing the sibilance that had marred it after the ritual.

"No more than usual," Harry said. "Sir." The belated title was pointed in its execution.

Headmaster Tom Marvolo Riddle settled back in his chair to take in Harry in his entirety. "Cheeky Slytherin," he mumbled.

"Arrogant Ravenclaw," Harry shot back.

"Ah, but you above all others know the futility of the House system, if my guards are any indication. Why allow yourself its crutch?"

"I merely respond to what is told to me. Sir."

"Please, we have been acquainted long enough for you to address me more informally."

"If that's what you want, Tom," Harry said. Riddle's grimace was enough to prompt a small smirk. He loved one-upping the man.

"Never mind, your impertinence is more manageable than your sarcasm," Riddle said almost to himself.

"I'll bear that in mind, Headmaster."

Riddle's eyes flashed crimson. "So, you are simply here to mock me, then?" he said.

Harry shook his head. "Of course not. I wouldn't be so rude. I know that I will be called to testify in whatever pomp and circumstance the Minister will call forth, and I refuse to do so without knowing everything."

"Information? You would have done well in Ravenclaw, Mr. Potter."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I might not have lost as much if I was, Headmaster."

Riddle sneered at him. "Ah yes, the Mudblood girl. One of my most clever, reliable linchpins, for why would the Dark Lord want someone impure of blood? It is unfortunate how she turned out, isn't it?"

"We aren't here to talk of Hermione," Harry said, barely holding back a snarl. "I have a right to know what caused all of this. You got everything you wanted; why risk it all?"

"Such loyalty. Perhaps you are a closet Hufflepuff after all. It's no matter; what will I have you tell me in exchange? I can't allow this opportunity to slip from between my fingers, after all."

Harry gestured flippantly. "You first. Tell me what you will and I'll respond with just as much."

Riddle smirked. "Then I will tell you nothing."

In all of his careful planning, Harry had not expected the poster child of Ravenclaw House to be able to turn down what had to be valuable information. He had been prepared to twist his words to the most minimal, redirect assumptions the man had already built up, only to find that the man in question was ready to decline it all to... what? Keep his air of mystique? Harry could have snorted at such a childish decision.

"Very well, Headmaster. I have one last task, then."

Riddle simply raised an eyebrow.

"I will spend the rest of your life destroying your legacy," Harry said calmly. "I will allow one of our remaining Professors-- Snape or perhaps McGonagall comes to mind-- to take your position. They will be accredited as the person to recover all of the Founders' Items: the Diadem of Wisdom, the Cup of Charisma, the Sword of Heroes, the Locket of Truth. It will all go to them. They will be crowned as the person who single-handedly rewrote Hogwarts's teaching standards and made them the crown jewel of the entire continent. They will be lauded, and when I come of age, I will take over from them. All books mentioning your name, all editions of _Hogwarts, a History _that claim your genius will be burned. Soon, when my children's children attend this noble Academy, they will have never heard of Tom Marvolo Riddle or Lord Voldemort. You will never get a portrait in this office. You will be nothing, utterly _forgotten_."

Harry took in Riddle's suddenly rigid form. "You, of course, will be sent to a small cottage of your own. You will get the _Daily Prophet_ sent to you-- I couldn't just erase your connection from the world, could I-- and you will see that the Earth will continue to spin without you. The Minister will ask for your magic to be bound; as I know nothing, I will only be able to tell her that you must have gone off your rocker in your old age, addled in mind despite all of the rituals you underwent to remain youthful. I will ask the Unspeakables to ensure that there is a memory charm associated with your name, the kind that encourages that people are unable to remember your name or your exploits in full. Ravenclaw will no longer be a House feared for half a century. After my generation passes, you will be gone completely."

Harry made full eye contact with the enraged man in front of him, shackled to the chair as he was. "You will be made mortal, Tom."

"And what of your friend? The girl will never survive such an attack on me," Riddle hissed.

"Hermione was such a skillful Arithmancer. It's a shame that she was never able to calculate accurately the success rate of a charm that she developed. Accidents happen. I will know in my heart what happened to her, and that's all that will matter."

"You're making a mistake, Potter," Riddle spat, violently fighting the magic-binding shackles around his arms. "You'll make too many holes, you can't repress everything!"

"So be it," Harry responded. "Hopefully, those historians in decades to come will understand and forgive me. I have nothing further to say. Good-bye, Headmaster."

Harry left the office. Ron and Draco immediatelt flanked him as he walked down the stairs. He paid them no mind, thinking only of finding a bed he could collapse into. He was unbearably tired.

**for those of you waiting for another story of mine, i apologize greatly. they have all been fighting me, and new story concepts are constantly shouting for attention as well. this was one of those other concepts. hopefully with this written, i will be able to return to another story soon. this was an exercise in writing; i wrote it on my phone in the fanfic app while on the bus running errands for my job. it is by no means perfect; if i ever choose to write this into a longer fic i will be much more professional about it, but seeing as this is as complete as it will be for now, i don't see why i shouldn't share it.**


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